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marginalia) wrote2005-02-08 05:29 pm
marginalia) wrote2005-02-08 05:29 pm
Entry tags:
fic: we blaze away - bill/oliver
title: we blaze away
pairing: bill/oliver
archive: .: marginalia :.
notes: unforgivably late hp slash wedding fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dacro. thanks as always to melinda & steph. title from the decemberists. um. mostly i'm just tired of looking at it. just over 2000 words. holy pajamas.
It was George of all people who first suggested it, around the fire at 12 Grimmauld Place late one night. George suggested it, Harry seconded it, Lupin nodded almost to himself and agreed to make contact, and just like that, Oliver Wood was brought into the Order. Hermione had rolled her eyes a bit, but she trusted Remus above all others by then. Bill had to take a moment to remember which school friend in particular Oliver was, but when he did (sturdy, Scottish, a Keeper) he smiled to himself.
::
Oliver had three particular strengths: he was passionate about strategy, he could think like the enemy, and he trusted Harry Potter to take care of himself. He also was nearly the only person who could still command the twins, a fact Bill found highly impressive when they were reintroduced as Oliver returned to take a flat in Muggle London.
The Quidditch season had gone on as long as possible under the theory that people needed some degree of joy and normalcy, but it was cancelled abruptly after a threat of a Death Eater attack at the Kestrels-Wasps match in Wimbourne. Stadiums full of people were far too vulnerable, and no one had forgotten the night years earlier when the Dark Mark had appeared ominous in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup. Better to be safe, the officials had decided, but Oliver had strong words about people who allowed themselves to live in fear. He had been glad to accept the position with the Order. "Better by far to fight!" he said eagerly. Bill could see why he had been a captain. Oliver was the sort of man it would be easy to follow.
::
Bill had developed the habit of going down to the Hippogriff and Child of an evening with a few other wizards from Gringotts. He had never gotten used to the quiet of an empty flat, not even after his time in Egypt. Of course, the flat then was not always empty, but nor was it filled for long.
He invited Oliver to come round one night, and soon he was a regular in the group. They argued over past Quidditch matches, the terrible music on the wireless these days, and the relative attractiveness of the witches who brought them their pints, then stumbled out the door, holding each other up and both collapsing at whichever flat was less filthy at the moment.
As the weeks and months wore on, they failed to notice how the group around them diminished, as well as what poor company one was when the other was off on a mission. They failed to notice a good deal, in fact, until the night when only they remained and, having done quite a bit of damage to a bottle of Firewhiskey, both turned to look appreciatively after a rather fit young man as he passed their table.
"Ah," said Oliver, sobering up quickly.
"I had wondered," said Bill.
"I hadn't," Oliver said. "Although that's a pretty good explanation for things not working out with Fleur. Even I heard about her."
"I was just helping her with her English. But all she helped me with was preventing questions from my mother." They both laughed and the conversation drifted onward, but when they stumbled out of the bar that night they kept a careful distance between them and each went to his own flat.
::
A few days later, Bill arrived late to a meeting of the Order. Oliver caught his eye across the circle and smiled, and after suggested they Apparate somewhere for drinks. "Only if I can pick the spot," Bill said, and directed them to an alley outside a Muggle establishment. "Avoid the gossips," he said, by way of explanation.
"You expect there will be something for them to gossip about? Aren't you the bold one."
"You have no idea." Bill looked at him in the glow of the street lamp. "Or, perhaps you do." He pushed Oliver gently against the wall and later neither would know who had moved first, just that they were kissing finally, after all of the months that they hadn't known they had been waiting.
::
Oliver left the next week for training. The Wizarding Army was in sad shape, divided against itself, but Oliver believed he could reverse that. "The Death Eaters' bigotry is their weakness," he had told Bill. "That's obvious, right? But see, we're unlimited. We don't turn away good witches and wizards for any reason."
He sent an owl from camp.
::
The Order had them in different Unplottable encampments every week it seemed, and neither of them were in London enough to justify maintaining two flats. In another life, Bill thought, there would have been discussion and drama surrounding the decision, but here it was simply judged practical and Oliver soon moved in. They feigned normalcy as much as possible, arguing over whose turn it was to do which housekeeping spell, but underneath it all both knew that their time together could be limited.
When Oliver's division went off into a battle too secret for even Bill to be allowed the details, he paced the floor, surprised at himself. He hadn't said anything because he hadn't known there was anything to be said, but now he was finding regrets in all the empty spaces and a sickening lurch in his stomach with every owl, though he would be the last to know.
He volunteered for anything and everything the Order even hinted needed doing above and beyond his commitments to his own division. When Ginny fell, Oliver delivered the news himself on an overnight pass. "I don't know what to say," he said, "And so I thought I would just come."
::
Bill was tall and all over angles and Oliver was shorter and solid but they fit together in stolen moments, Oliver's fingers tangled in Bill's hair as they moved together fiercely, reminding each other that they still lived though they were losing those they loved.
::
The end lasted forever. Order meetings were called less often, strategy occurring between individuals. They claimed it was for safety, but it was really fueled by denial. If they did not meet, they would not be faced with who was missing.
The Order's numbers were depleted dramatically by the final battle. It was named by the Ministry and reported by the Prophet, but those who were there knew it was a misnomer. The war might never be truly over. The death of Voldemort was an uncertain thing and Death Eaters slipped underground. People needed finality, but the remaining members of the Order held their breath, waiting for history to repeat itself.
"You should carry on with your lives," Molly told them at dinner before the Order scattered. "Don't give him that power."
::
They were a tangle of warm lazy limbs late one Saturday morning when Bill said, "Perhaps we should make it official."
"Your mother will think I'm going to have a baby," Oliver muttered.
Bill tilted his head as if considering. "No," he said finally. "I don't think they have a spell for that yet."
"Give Hermione a week," Oliver suggested. "On second thought, no. I don't want to lose my figure."
"What figure?" Bill asked, and was rewarded with a slap.
Oliver was quiet for a bit. "That will really anger Voldemort, I think. Two pureblood boys not providing the wizarding world with more pureblood babies." Bill watched him carefully for a long time, and in the look it was decided.
::
Bill told Charlie first in a quick fire chat, because Romania was still too far for him to pop in for dinner at the Burrow, no matter how much Molly might wish it. Family dinners meant much more now that there was less family. Charlie laughed and said that it was about time he made an honest man of Oliver.
They told the other Weasleys all at once the following Sunday night, and Molly burst into tears. "Just what we need, another boy in the family!" she said without thinking, and Oliver flushed bright red while Bill took his hand under the table. "Not that we don't love you, Oliver, you know," and he did know. She didn’t have to explain.
Ron said "But what about Fleur?", and then had the decency to look mildly embarrassed, which made it an average family dinner so far as he was concerned. The twins began whispering to themselves, and Bill wasn't surprised when they announced that they would be in charge of stag night.
"Both of you together, though," said Fred.
"Because there's no way we're enduring two nights of . . ." George caught his mother's eye and trailed off.
"Also," Fred added, "because we're stingy."
::
Only Oliver's mother remained. "We'll go to her," he said. "I don't know how she'll take it. Though I'm sure she's always known. Mothers do, you know."
Vanora Wood looked askance at Bill's earring, but then kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome to the family. Be good to him."
"I will," he promised.
"It's not what I would have chosen for him. He looks happy, though, and in these times especially that's the most important. I'll be owling your mother in the morning, Bill," she added, in a no-nonsense tone. "There are many arrangements to be made."
"Don't argue," Oliver whispered, always the strategy man. "It'll be easier on us all if we let them do as much as possible."
::
Hermione didn't cry when they asked her to officiate, though she came close when Oliver said that he thought Remus would have approved. Hermione smiled bravely like she did everything now and said, "Yes, of course!"
They asked Molly if they could have the ceremony in the garden at the Burrow. "Of course," she said. "I think Arthur would have liked that."
It was to be as soon as Charlie could get time away, as he had the greatest distance to travel. He was to stand up for Bill, and Angelina Johnson had agreed for Oliver, to the delight of the twins who demanded her assistance in organizing the stag night. "We should probably be concerned," Oliver said in bed one night, "But seeing them planning fun things again . . ."
Bill nodded. "I'm still intending to be suspicious of anything they try to feed us."
::
Much of the concern was for naught, Angelina apparently managing to tone down some of Fred and George's wilder ideas. The evening was carefully scheduled: dinner and drinks, a gentlemen's club (in a manner of speaking), and a round of some Quidditch derivative that appeared to exist largely to make a sticky mess of everyone.
A few Cleaning Charms later, and the party culminated in a discreet establishment in Hogsmeade that Bill hadn't even known existed. Angelina had made reservations for them all at the inn next door to prevent splinching from Apparating while intoxicated. Between the company and Fred and George's presentation of only mildly obscene indoor fireworks, it was much like a more risqué version of the Gryffindor common room, full of warmth, laughter, and excellent food and drink.
::
The morning of the wedding dawned rosy but not too hot, the weather apparently bowing before the wishes of Molly and Vanora just as readily as the remainder of the world.
"Mum's sobbing all over the place already," Charlie said as he stuck his head into the room. "Don't know what she'll do when the ceremony actually starts. Are you ready? I just saw Oliver - he's so dashing in that kilt I'd marry him myself."
"Nearly," said Bill, as he finished his braid and smoothed his own kilt. "And you wouldn't. Too much of a commitment for you."
Charlie scowled. "Remember, when the music starts?"
"Of course."
"Well, then. See you down there. Please don't faint - I don't want to have to catch you." Charlie was gone before Bill had a chance to retort.
He took one last look in the glass. "Shoot your cuffs," said the mirror. "And breathe."
They met at the foot of the zig-zagging stairs to the strains of the Wizarding March, and walked together out of the Burrow and into their new life.
pairing: bill/oliver
archive: .: marginalia :.
notes: unforgivably late hp slash wedding fic for
dacro. thanks as always to melinda & steph. title from the decemberists. um. mostly i'm just tired of looking at it. just over 2000 words. holy pajamas.It was George of all people who first suggested it, around the fire at 12 Grimmauld Place late one night. George suggested it, Harry seconded it, Lupin nodded almost to himself and agreed to make contact, and just like that, Oliver Wood was brought into the Order. Hermione had rolled her eyes a bit, but she trusted Remus above all others by then. Bill had to take a moment to remember which school friend in particular Oliver was, but when he did (sturdy, Scottish, a Keeper) he smiled to himself.
::
Oliver had three particular strengths: he was passionate about strategy, he could think like the enemy, and he trusted Harry Potter to take care of himself. He also was nearly the only person who could still command the twins, a fact Bill found highly impressive when they were reintroduced as Oliver returned to take a flat in Muggle London.
The Quidditch season had gone on as long as possible under the theory that people needed some degree of joy and normalcy, but it was cancelled abruptly after a threat of a Death Eater attack at the Kestrels-Wasps match in Wimbourne. Stadiums full of people were far too vulnerable, and no one had forgotten the night years earlier when the Dark Mark had appeared ominous in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup. Better to be safe, the officials had decided, but Oliver had strong words about people who allowed themselves to live in fear. He had been glad to accept the position with the Order. "Better by far to fight!" he said eagerly. Bill could see why he had been a captain. Oliver was the sort of man it would be easy to follow.
::
Bill had developed the habit of going down to the Hippogriff and Child of an evening with a few other wizards from Gringotts. He had never gotten used to the quiet of an empty flat, not even after his time in Egypt. Of course, the flat then was not always empty, but nor was it filled for long.
He invited Oliver to come round one night, and soon he was a regular in the group. They argued over past Quidditch matches, the terrible music on the wireless these days, and the relative attractiveness of the witches who brought them their pints, then stumbled out the door, holding each other up and both collapsing at whichever flat was less filthy at the moment.
As the weeks and months wore on, they failed to notice how the group around them diminished, as well as what poor company one was when the other was off on a mission. They failed to notice a good deal, in fact, until the night when only they remained and, having done quite a bit of damage to a bottle of Firewhiskey, both turned to look appreciatively after a rather fit young man as he passed their table.
"Ah," said Oliver, sobering up quickly.
"I had wondered," said Bill.
"I hadn't," Oliver said. "Although that's a pretty good explanation for things not working out with Fleur. Even I heard about her."
"I was just helping her with her English. But all she helped me with was preventing questions from my mother." They both laughed and the conversation drifted onward, but when they stumbled out of the bar that night they kept a careful distance between them and each went to his own flat.
::
A few days later, Bill arrived late to a meeting of the Order. Oliver caught his eye across the circle and smiled, and after suggested they Apparate somewhere for drinks. "Only if I can pick the spot," Bill said, and directed them to an alley outside a Muggle establishment. "Avoid the gossips," he said, by way of explanation.
"You expect there will be something for them to gossip about? Aren't you the bold one."
"You have no idea." Bill looked at him in the glow of the street lamp. "Or, perhaps you do." He pushed Oliver gently against the wall and later neither would know who had moved first, just that they were kissing finally, after all of the months that they hadn't known they had been waiting.
::
Oliver left the next week for training. The Wizarding Army was in sad shape, divided against itself, but Oliver believed he could reverse that. "The Death Eaters' bigotry is their weakness," he had told Bill. "That's obvious, right? But see, we're unlimited. We don't turn away good witches and wizards for any reason."
He sent an owl from camp.
In war one must be bold. There is a shell in the envelope if you wish to join me. Actually, there is a shell in there regardless, but only take it out if you are ready.Bill shook the Portkey into his palm and grasped it tight.
--O
::
The Order had them in different Unplottable encampments every week it seemed, and neither of them were in London enough to justify maintaining two flats. In another life, Bill thought, there would have been discussion and drama surrounding the decision, but here it was simply judged practical and Oliver soon moved in. They feigned normalcy as much as possible, arguing over whose turn it was to do which housekeeping spell, but underneath it all both knew that their time together could be limited.
When Oliver's division went off into a battle too secret for even Bill to be allowed the details, he paced the floor, surprised at himself. He hadn't said anything because he hadn't known there was anything to be said, but now he was finding regrets in all the empty spaces and a sickening lurch in his stomach with every owl, though he would be the last to know.
He volunteered for anything and everything the Order even hinted needed doing above and beyond his commitments to his own division. When Ginny fell, Oliver delivered the news himself on an overnight pass. "I don't know what to say," he said, "And so I thought I would just come."
::
Bill was tall and all over angles and Oliver was shorter and solid but they fit together in stolen moments, Oliver's fingers tangled in Bill's hair as they moved together fiercely, reminding each other that they still lived though they were losing those they loved.
::
The end lasted forever. Order meetings were called less often, strategy occurring between individuals. They claimed it was for safety, but it was really fueled by denial. If they did not meet, they would not be faced with who was missing.
The Order's numbers were depleted dramatically by the final battle. It was named by the Ministry and reported by the Prophet, but those who were there knew it was a misnomer. The war might never be truly over. The death of Voldemort was an uncertain thing and Death Eaters slipped underground. People needed finality, but the remaining members of the Order held their breath, waiting for history to repeat itself.
"You should carry on with your lives," Molly told them at dinner before the Order scattered. "Don't give him that power."
::
They were a tangle of warm lazy limbs late one Saturday morning when Bill said, "Perhaps we should make it official."
"Your mother will think I'm going to have a baby," Oliver muttered.
Bill tilted his head as if considering. "No," he said finally. "I don't think they have a spell for that yet."
"Give Hermione a week," Oliver suggested. "On second thought, no. I don't want to lose my figure."
"What figure?" Bill asked, and was rewarded with a slap.
Oliver was quiet for a bit. "That will really anger Voldemort, I think. Two pureblood boys not providing the wizarding world with more pureblood babies." Bill watched him carefully for a long time, and in the look it was decided.
::
Bill told Charlie first in a quick fire chat, because Romania was still too far for him to pop in for dinner at the Burrow, no matter how much Molly might wish it. Family dinners meant much more now that there was less family. Charlie laughed and said that it was about time he made an honest man of Oliver.
They told the other Weasleys all at once the following Sunday night, and Molly burst into tears. "Just what we need, another boy in the family!" she said without thinking, and Oliver flushed bright red while Bill took his hand under the table. "Not that we don't love you, Oliver, you know," and he did know. She didn’t have to explain.
Ron said "But what about Fleur?", and then had the decency to look mildly embarrassed, which made it an average family dinner so far as he was concerned. The twins began whispering to themselves, and Bill wasn't surprised when they announced that they would be in charge of stag night.
"Both of you together, though," said Fred.
"Because there's no way we're enduring two nights of . . ." George caught his mother's eye and trailed off.
"Also," Fred added, "because we're stingy."
::
Only Oliver's mother remained. "We'll go to her," he said. "I don't know how she'll take it. Though I'm sure she's always known. Mothers do, you know."
Vanora Wood looked askance at Bill's earring, but then kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome to the family. Be good to him."
"I will," he promised.
"It's not what I would have chosen for him. He looks happy, though, and in these times especially that's the most important. I'll be owling your mother in the morning, Bill," she added, in a no-nonsense tone. "There are many arrangements to be made."
"Don't argue," Oliver whispered, always the strategy man. "It'll be easier on us all if we let them do as much as possible."
::
Hermione didn't cry when they asked her to officiate, though she came close when Oliver said that he thought Remus would have approved. Hermione smiled bravely like she did everything now and said, "Yes, of course!"
They asked Molly if they could have the ceremony in the garden at the Burrow. "Of course," she said. "I think Arthur would have liked that."
It was to be as soon as Charlie could get time away, as he had the greatest distance to travel. He was to stand up for Bill, and Angelina Johnson had agreed for Oliver, to the delight of the twins who demanded her assistance in organizing the stag night. "We should probably be concerned," Oliver said in bed one night, "But seeing them planning fun things again . . ."
Bill nodded. "I'm still intending to be suspicious of anything they try to feed us."
::
Much of the concern was for naught, Angelina apparently managing to tone down some of Fred and George's wilder ideas. The evening was carefully scheduled: dinner and drinks, a gentlemen's club (in a manner of speaking), and a round of some Quidditch derivative that appeared to exist largely to make a sticky mess of everyone.
A few Cleaning Charms later, and the party culminated in a discreet establishment in Hogsmeade that Bill hadn't even known existed. Angelina had made reservations for them all at the inn next door to prevent splinching from Apparating while intoxicated. Between the company and Fred and George's presentation of only mildly obscene indoor fireworks, it was much like a more risqué version of the Gryffindor common room, full of warmth, laughter, and excellent food and drink.
::
The morning of the wedding dawned rosy but not too hot, the weather apparently bowing before the wishes of Molly and Vanora just as readily as the remainder of the world.
"Mum's sobbing all over the place already," Charlie said as he stuck his head into the room. "Don't know what she'll do when the ceremony actually starts. Are you ready? I just saw Oliver - he's so dashing in that kilt I'd marry him myself."
"Nearly," said Bill, as he finished his braid and smoothed his own kilt. "And you wouldn't. Too much of a commitment for you."
Charlie scowled. "Remember, when the music starts?"
"Of course."
"Well, then. See you down there. Please don't faint - I don't want to have to catch you." Charlie was gone before Bill had a chance to retort.
He took one last look in the glass. "Shoot your cuffs," said the mirror. "And breathe."
They met at the foot of the zig-zagging stairs to the strains of the Wizarding March, and walked together out of the Burrow and into their new life.